


Pyrite-50: Quiet Moments

by HammieSlice



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Cuddles, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I wrote all of This at 2 am, OC, Original Characters - Freeform, Original Guardians - Freeform, Other, rooftop talks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-02-01 02:24:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21334462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HammieSlice/pseuds/HammieSlice
Summary: A Warlock contemplates her new life.A woman tries to bring her comrades together.A Titan rests, just below them, unaware of all that they would do for her.
Relationships: Pyrite-50 | Oreikhalkos, Pyrite-50 | Suraya Hawthorne
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Pyrite-50: Quiet Moments

“You can’t stay up here forever,” Cherri murmurs, settled in a hover near her shoulder. “You do know that, right? You’ll need to relax eventually.”

She gives nothing more than a nod, and the conversation ends. Her ghost knows not to speak too much after incidents like this. Close calls, quick bullets, scrapes in the EDZ Pyrite might not come back from. The comfort of being there for one another was all they needed. Even if they’re in a completely different world than their own, the world that was just recently stripped away from them both, Lightless and listless in a new age. Again, her hands run over tattered robes, mud-covered boots, trying to find imperfections in… Something. Trying to find something. The Light couldn’t search for her itself, even if she wanted to believe it. Ghaul could be some kind of repentance, for shying away, for walking with the Void, but that wasn’t how the world worked. It couldn’t be. Thoughts like these had been what lead her up to the roof of the barn, the biggest structure on the Farm, the place where she could better see the Shard of the Traveler and survey the ground below. 

Cool night air didn’t bother her, and the rest of this unknown world was quiet. Pyrite hadn’t been outside the walls- Formerly, without a jump ship- Since she was practically a kinderguardian. Her ghost turns as the sound of crunching hay and old, half-rotted plank wood creaking echoes upward, shining a beacon for the newcomer through it’s faceplate. 

“Cut that thing off, will you? It’s killing my line of sight.” 

Hawthorne’s voice is gruff, still a little sleepy, and Cherri chirps an apologetic answer. “Sorry! Thought you were Fallen, or Vex, or-“

“Cabal?”

“...Yes. Cabal, those, too.”

The Warlock’s head turns enough to spot Hawthorne out of the corner of her vision, hauling herself up onto unsteady tile panels with a blanket and a mug of steaming something-or-other in hand. Must have been trouble, getting them up here. Why go through the trouble for her? Pyrite had chosen to take the night watch, as much to clear her head as it was to ease her paranoia. The commander… Well. Not really. Her commanders had been lost with the City. Hawthorne didn’t have to go through the trouble. Yet she had. As the other woman settles next to her, the Exo straightens her posture, pulls her dangling feet from over the edge.

The human seems to take note. “Rough time? I, uh- I didn’t know if you really needed the extra heat, Devram insisted…” She gestures with the mug, “You try some of this. Tea, I think. I don’t drink it.”

Gently, like the ceramic will break under her fingertips, Pyrite takes the mug and sips. Jasmine. She manages something like a smile, muttering over the rim, “Thank you.”

“Oh, the great Guardian speaks!” It’s half sarcastic, and half exasperated. “Finally. How long did you plan on keeping the strong, silent type act up?”

“You didn’t seem to mind, the first few days.”

“That’s because you kept to yourself, and your own business. Now that I’ve heard you thinking about that big old hunk of junk in the dark forest? Silence makes me uneasy.”

“The absence of sound sometimes speaks louder than a raised voice.”

She snorts, head shaking, “Is that you trying to extort some ‘Warlock Wisdom’ or something?”

“No,” Pyrite concedes, “Just… I don’t know.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then another, and another, as Hawthorne wraps the blanket around her shoulders and tucks further into her poncho. The two alone, with the stars and sky, they aren’t different from one another. A Lightless Guardian and a listless human. But both have a job to do. When Pyrite flicks her head back toward the other, Hawthorne’s hood is pulled down around her shoulders, black hair neatly tucked into a bun at the nape of her neck. She looks as if she belongs. She does belong. This is her world. It is not Pyrites.

“Change of subject, then. Your pick.”

“Is this some backwards version of twenty questions?”

“Okay, my pick, since you’re being sour.”

“And you aren’t.”

The withering look she earns is enough to lift her spirits, even only a bit. Hawthorne continues, “What’s the name of the other Guardian you brought back with you?”

“Oreikhalkos. Titan Awoken.”

“God, you sound so formal. Is that how you introduce yourself? Pyrite-50, Wa-“

“Warlock Exo. Yes, it is. What’s the subject?”

“How’s she holding up? It’s kind of obvious, reading between the lines.” Again she adjusts the layers of fabric around herself, making a noise of discontent. It’s too cold for anyone to be away from the insulated barn. At least, any human. “She followed you around like that ghost of yours for the first two days. I mean, you’d probably seen battle before, but her?”

It’s a hard question, admittedly. Before now, Pyrite had only known Oreikhalkos as another soldier, if she’d known her at all. But now they’d fought side by side, ran together when the City fell, relied on one another to keep going. The familiar pang of hurt and gilt passes over in a shallow wave, the remembrance of Roman and Kal’dron. So she shakes her head, unsure of the answer herself.

Hawthorne lets out a hum. “She acts like you hung the moon, Y’know.”

“...Hung the moon?”

“Old saying I hear from Devram all the time. Like you did everything in the world for somebody.” 

“Oh.”

“What even… And I mean, if you don’t wanna talk, that’s fine- But what happened?”

Another moment of hesitation. Cherri was right- She couldn’t stay up here wallowing forever. But spilling her guts to Hawthorne wasn’t exactly ideal, either. But Pyrite takes another sip of tea, clears her throat, and tosses a leg over the side of the roof again to let it swing in a restless gesture.

“I was out for two days after the City fell. Just- Pushed right out of the air, by the Cabal emperor. Guess Orei was in the area, from what I remember, because I’d tumbled down into one of the aqueduct systems before she found me. I was just surprised she hadn’t run.” The lights of her jaw seem to waver in time with her voice, blinking slowly as she works the hinges back and forth. “But we got out. Found our Ghosts. Snuck away from the wall and hunkered down in a cave system not too far from here. When the patrols came by in the morning, she’d take care of them best she could, and… And I’d do the same for the ones at night. Until we picked up your transmit.”

Until they’d found the Farm. A newly-made safe haven for refugees and Guardians alike, even if they were one and the same, now. Hawthorne is watching her, and she knows it, from the way the world seems to shiver in anticipation; a quiet conversation on a lonely rooftop in the darkest night on Earth. The Light was gone. Her Light was gone. If anything happened, she could die. No matter how much she wanted to say she was prepared for it, she wasn’t. She never would be. To just stop existing, to cease to be… It wasn’t right, for a Guardian. But it was the way the world worked now. Pyrite feels the touch of a leather glove on her shoulder, patting gently, as the human heaves a sigh.

“And I’m glad you did. The Farm wouldn’t have made it half this far without you both.” She’s been shoved at, urged away, and she doesn’t resist. “I can take the rest of this watch. Think you need the sleep more than me.”

“But-“

“Go, Pyrite. I’m asking you to.”

Cherri makes a grumbling noise in response, and uses her own form of gentle nudging to get her Guardian away from the edge, the Warlock pushing herself up onto her feet again to climb down into the barn. It smells of rain-soaked wood and flowers, nothing of the tower or the city, and Pyrite isn’t sure if she prefers it or hates it. Maybe some odd mixture of both. Finding an Awoken in the midst of humans isn’t hard. She just has to look for lamp-light skin and brightened eyelids in the hay, soft and smooth against every other texture, curled up in a cot on a particularly large patch of hay. The Titan symbol is still emblazoned on the side of the blanket she uses, and that helps, too. Pyrite slides off her helmet, settling it upside down for Cherri to stay in for the night, and takes another chance look at Oreikhalkos. The Light Of The Traveler might not bless her any longer, but…

Internally, she chides herself. Getting caught up in unneeded thoughts- Unneeded feelings- Wouldn’t make anything better. Yet she allows herself one quiet moment, vision flickering over pink-tinted lips, lime and neon green hidden underneath pale eyelids, skin like a thunderstorm with bolts of lightning striking the sky. Pyrite hasn’t been at peace in a long time, if she ever was. From whatever lives she’d lead before, she only remembered suffering and sound, a war against darkness to save the Light. But now the Light was gone. So it was a war to save people. A battle that, even if she lost, others would take up the banner.

This time, when she remembers Roman and Kal’dron, it’s in gratitude. A quiet, assured, never again. 

Pyrite-50 lays herself down next to Oreikhalkos, tucks the edges of the blanket over her form, and burrows as closely as she can get to the other woman. Finally, she allows herself to rest.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here it is! The first Destiny fic I’ve ever written. This shows a relationship between Pyrite-50, one of my own Guardians, and Oreikhalkos, a Guardian created by my good friend Artemis Crimson. I hope you all enjoyed this little snippet, one I Ugh this make into a three-part series for all my Guardians, But we’ll just see where it goes.
> 
> ~ Hammie


End file.
